


Imagination

by SamuelJames



Category: Handsome Devil (2016)
Genre: Brief Mention Of Conor/OMC, Bullying mentioned, Explicit For Language Only, First Kiss, Invented Backstories, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamuelJames/pseuds/SamuelJames
Summary: Conor shares some poetry with Victor after his new room-mate asks about gay representation in poetry.





	Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> _**Title:** Imagination_   
>  _**Pairing:** Conor Masters/Victor_   
>  _**Rating:** 18+ (for language)_   
>  _**Summary:** Conor shares some poetry with Victor after his new room-mate asks about gay representation in poetry._   
>  _**Canon notes:** Since canon setting is nebulous time-wise, I'm setting this one in the present day so the guys can google._   
>  _**Notes:** Part of my one word collection where the single word prompt will be the fic title. Prompts are taken from [this list](http://artjournalist.com/one-word-art-journal-prompts/) and will be of varying lengths. Since I've rarely met a fandom I didn't want to stray into, there will be tons of different ones and various pairings._   
>  _**Disclaimer:** This transformative work has been created purely for entertainment purposes. No profit is made or sought. No copyright infringement is intended._   
>  _**Archiving Information:** Please do not archive elsewhere on the net or in other formats/languages._

They split him and Ned up like they were going to jump right into bed with one another but he gets Victor to share with so it's not all bad. Ned gets Victor's former room-mate, Deco Quinn, who's pretty okay. He's rugby mad and he and Ned have argued over their tastes in posters but the guy's not a homophobic dickhead like some of them. For the first few weeks Conor keeps treating it like he's a guest in Victor's room but then he gets used to it; their belongings spreading out and merging, one or the other of them replacing toothpaste or grabbing a pen to do homework. Victor even borrows Conor's English notes saying that Conor gets all that poetry shite better than him. They're working at their own desks when a Mars bar lands beside Conor's folder.

"Study break."

He turns his chair a little. "Cheers. How's the essay?"

"Bit waffly, could you give it a read?"

"Sure."

He holds out his hand while Victor rips the pages from his A4 pad. He gets up and sits on his bed to read. He can feel Victor watching, waiting. "I'm trying to read."

"Yeah, sorry," Victor says and continues right on watching him.

It's not bad but Conor knows Mr Sherry said more about the romantic poets, at least to his class, and Victor has gone on a bit of a tangent about nature. "He wants us to try to figure out what the poets are feeling, to imagine a great love that inspired such words, I mean the seed sowing and harvest metaphors aren't subtle but the freezing over in winter is about the death of their love, the ice crystals on the trees are him being numb when he loses her. You did get the meadow of flowers bit."

"So shit then. How am I supposed to imagine a whole life with someone I've not met yet? It's like that film he had us watch with James Corden in it, most of the stuff that poetry's about hasn't happened to us. If he wasn't panicking so much about our mocks and whether Mr Fottrell covered everything, he wouldn't be piling on the essays."

Conor smiles, his mocks are another year off luckily. Since the rugby final all the sixth years have seemed under more pressure not less. "I don't like magically get it all you know just enough to give the accepted interpretation. I'd be lost without listening in class and I've seen you in supervised study getting distracted. It helps that I take better notes than you. Yours are full of doodles anyway. It's just the way they wrote about stuff way back when."

Victor groans and throws himself onto the end of Conor's bed, joining his hands as if in prayer. "Will you explain your notes please?"

"If I must."

"Does it bother you that they're all writing about women?"

It doesn't really but he doesn't answer immediately, unsure why Victor is asking. He hasn't been anything but nice to Conor but they haven't discussed it either.

"Do you mind me asking? They can't all have been straight."

"They weren't but we're learning the traditional stuff. I don't expect some long dead poet to show me my experience. There are some others who were open in the '50s when it was still a big deal and..."

"What?"

He's not sure he wants to see Victor's reaction if he finds it too much. "Pass me my laptop and I'll show you."

He moves a bit so he and Victor are side by side. The silence feels awkward as Conor starts up his laptop. When he gets to the desktop he clicks on Chrome and Victor nudges him.

"Set to incognito, mine too."

Conor blushes. "Yeah, no panic if mum wants to borrow it but that can't really happen now that they've sent me away."

He searches for Howl and tries a few links till he finds one with the text and scrolls a bit before shuffling it across so it's half on Victor's lap.

Victor reads for a minute and lets out a low whistle, " _who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy, who blew and were blown by those human seraphim._ "

"He could write all this then and there was a trial over it but this wasn't some coded words about shared glances and the beauty of another man, he was just so open and like fuck it this is what being gay is, for him at least. Some of it is as cryptic as the stuff we have to learn but not that part. There are other poets too but I wish I had more of his screw what everyone else thinks attitude."

"You do, Conor, now that we all know. When you came to the game and gave that speech it was brave and statistically you and Ned can't be the only gay guys here. In fact you're definitely not."

"Oh."

"If they didn't want two gay guys sharing a room, they shouldn't have put you with me."

"Oh," Conor repeats wishing he had a more elegant response. 

"Only my older brother knows so please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. How do you deal with Weasel making comments?"

"Not the best taste in friends I know but our mums went to college together and we went to each others' birthdays and stuff. There's a picture of him karate chopping my cake when I was four or the aftermath anyway - icing all over his sleeve and the candle all lopsided."

"So he's always been a dick."

"Yeah. I mean I try to rein him in a bit but he's hard to defend at times."

Victor takes the laptop and puts it aside. "I didn't plan on telling anyone but you showed up and I liked being your friend and then when you stood up to Pascal it became a crush and you might not like me or whatever but you're gorgeous and if you like me..."

"Yeah, you're hot but it's not a good idea to be checking out guys in the changing room so I didn't. I haven't been thinking about you when I, oh God I should just shut up."

Victor puts his hand on Conor's and they interlock their fingers. "Can I kiss you?"

Conor nods.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet, had to make one up when we played truth or dare at a team party last year."

Conor squeezes Victor's hand. "Mine was a lie, I don't know how they knew because I tried so hard not to be noticed but I had another talk like this with a guy at my old school and when I kissed him he shoved me away and one of his mates was there with his phone to get proof. I wasn't boarding thankfully but then my parents got involved because of the fights and dad looked at me like I was a disappointment. He loves a son that excels at rugby but won't even mention the gay word, said that the real me is the one winning matches."

Victor turns towards him a little and Conor attempts a smile. 

"I hate that it happened, that your dad doesn't see how great you are."

Conor licks his lips feeling nervous as he puts his free hand on Victor's knee. Victor leans in and Conor closes his eyes. It's soft and hesitant but Victor sighs quietly against his lips and kisses him again before pulling away. They're both smiling and Conor brushes his thumb across the the back of Victor's hand. 

"How do I compare to your imaginary girl?"

"Way better," Victor says, "and much better looking."

"Want to go over the notes now?"

"Yep, now that I've an idea what those poets might have been feeling."


End file.
